Murphy's Law
by BellaTheDom
Summary: Tony calls in sick. TeamBonding, Hurt!Sick!Tony, MinorHurt!Tim, Second Chapter coming Soon.
1. Chapter 1

It was nearly five in the morning when Gibbs' cell phone rang.

"Gibbs." He answered curtly—he'd seen his phone flash 'DiNozzo', and started getting up and out of bed, anticipating a case. The LEOs often phoned his second in command about a case, too scared of Gibbs second "B" for bastard to bother him directly quite so early in the morning.

"We've got a case." Tony reported easily, but then quickly added, before Gibbs could tell him to call the others, meet him at the scene, and hang up abruptly—like he always did—"But I also rang because I'm calling in sick."

Gibbs was floored for a moment. "What's wrong?" DiNozzo never called in sick—well, not voluntarily at least.

"One of those 24 hour stomach viruses I think—I'll be in tomorrow when it passes—don't wanna' barf on anyone."

After getting the address, Gibbs hung up the phone and called his two other agents.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"Where is Tony?" Ziva looked around the crime scene, "He is usually the first one here, is he not? Sometimes even before Gibbs." She noted.

McGee looked around and shrugged, "That's weird."

"Called in sick—get to work." Gibbs barked orders at the two and walked over to the good doctor and his quirky assistant.

"Duck," he greeted.

"Oh, why good morning, Jethro." Ducky said, then grimaced slightly and remanded, "Well, not for this poor fellow."

"ETD?"

"I should approximate somewhere between 8 and 12 hours." Palmer nodded his head dutifully alongside the doctor, and then added, very hesitantly.

"Umm, sir—I mean, sorry, Gibbs, uh, I haven't seen Tony around—do you umm, do you know where he is?" Palmer stuttered.

Gibbs scowled—second time he'd heard that question in the last five minutes. And from Palmer no less; Gibbs didn't really know how close he and Tony were, to be honest. "Called out sick."

"That's odd." Ducky chimed in. "Anthony would come in carrying his severed arm if he thought he could get away with it. Is the dear boy alright?"

"Stomach virus."

"Those are nasty little bugs." Ducky sympathized with the younger man. "Still—it's just…odd." He commented, nonetheless.

Gibbs didn't need to be told twice—he knew how weird it was that DiNozzo of all people had voluntarily called in sick, and knowing they had a case, too! Something in Gibbs gut churned, but he ignored the feeling—he needed to focus on this case.

Said case ended up turning into one of those cases that pretty much solved itself—crime of passion meant the perpetrator left a lot of evidence behind for them to find.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

Gibbs stepped out of the elevator and handed his eccentric, gothic, forensic genius a large Caff!Pow.

"Super hinky, right?" Abby turned around, smiling as she was handed her sugary drink.

Gibbs raised a brow, "Not really—pretty open and shut case."

"Not the case," she shook her head, pigtails swishing along. "Tony!" she clarified. "It's super hinky that he's not here—I mean, remember the plague?" her eyes glazed over a little at the terrible memories of those damn blue lights, and nearly losing her best friend. "He came back way before his sick leave was up—in fact, he insisted on coming back early! And remember that time he was beat up by those jerks when he went in undercover with Ziva? The very next day—despite a mild concussion—he'd signed himself AMA and where was he? Right there, at his desk, bright and early." She opened her mouth again after taking a breath, Gibbs assumed to continue her rant, when he decided to cut in.

"I know Abs; you're right, it's 'hinky', but he'll be in tomorrow, at his desk, bright and early, like he always is." Gibbs patted the young woman on the head gently, gave her a forehead kiss goodnight, and went home.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"Gibbs."

"Hey Boss—still sick. Need the day off."

Gibbs blinked at his phone. "Did you go to the doctor?" he asked, concern leaking into his tone.

"Yup. He prescribed me some meds for the pain and recommended bed rest."

"Alright. Be sure to do that, then. I'll see you tomorrow." Gibbs hung up, his gut making an uncomfortable flip.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"Good morning Gibbs." Ziva walked into the bullpen, and set about getting comfortable in her desk. She noted—a little suspiciously now—that both Tony's and Tim's desks were void of either man.

Gibbs grunted a reply and got up and left—going for coffee—Ziva could only assume.

Fifteen minutes passed before McGee stumbled out of the elevator, looking nervous. "Boss, I'm sorry I'm late! My alarm didn't wake me up and there was traffic and—uh…" he paused, noticing Gibbs wasn't even at his desk. Just a bemused Ziva sat there, staring at him.

"Good morning Tim." She smiled.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, "Morning Ziva." He put his bag down beside his desk. "Uh, where's—"

"Coffee run."

"And—"

"No clue."

"Huh. You don't think he called in sick again, do you?" McGee mulled over this for a moment. It was so out of character for Tony to call out of work—much less twice in one week!

"Possibly. Though, I must say, it is very unusual, is it not?" the mossad officer wondered out loud.

"Enough chit chat—get to work." Gibbs chose that moment to walk in, third cup of coffee that day, in his hand.

"But we are not on an active case right now." Ziva questioned.

"Work on cold cases." He retorted.

The day was spent silently. Gibbs was not in the best of moods—he was borderline brooding. Ziva and Tim found that they were in the midst of falling asleep sitting up several times during the day—when they were stuck working cold cases Tony would keep their spirits up with frivolous outrageous tales, movie references and quotes, and some light bantering. Sometimes he'd even brave Gibbs' second "B" for bastard and suggest the team go down to the gym—a recluse from cold cases.

"I miss Tony." Gibbs and McGee both looked up in surprise. Ziva shrugged. "What? It is what we are all thinking, no?"

McGee reluctantly nodded. "Yeah—I hope he's ok. I was going to visit him last night, but I figured it was too late for a visit by the time we'd left work—I didn't wanna' bother him." He admitted.

Ziva grinned. "That is what you would call a coincidence, since those were my exact thoughts yesterday as well."

"Awesome—so trip to Tony's after work then? 'Cause I was thinking the same thing all day yesterday." Abby chimed in, coming up from the elevator just in time to over hear her friends' conversation.

"Sounds good." Gibbs commented, making McGee and David swivel around in their seats.

"You're coming too, Boss?" Tim asked.

"Got a problem with that?" Gibbs hid the grin that threatened to show on his face at McGees' stuttered "N-no sir—I mean, Gibbs, I mean, Boss!"

Abby gave Gibbs her 'Stop teasing him' look and smiled at Tim. "Awesome—so it's settled then! I'll go ask Ducky and Palmer if they want to come too!"

"Uh, shouldn't we call ahead to see if it's ok?" McGee inquired.

"No way, it's a surprise!" Abby practically skipped out of the bullpen and into the elevator—vibrating with excitement.

Gibbs' gut churned uncomfortably.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"Tony!" Abby called, "Knock, knock, we bring soup and good tidings!" she knocked on his door.

"Abby?" Tony opened his door half-way and peered through the opening, his eyes widening upon seeing not just his friend, but his Boss, his team mates, the good doctor and the autopsy gremlin! They looked like packed sardines in his tiny little hallway. "Oh, hi, um, everyone." He cleared his throat. "What's, uh, what's going on?"

"We came to see how you were doing, silly." Abby smiled and pointed towards the big container Ziva was holding. "She made that soup especially for you."

Ziva shrugged. "It is no big thing—just an old family recipe for the ill. I just hope that it will help in your recuperating process." She explained, almost timid.

McGee smiled. "I rented a couple of the new films you were talking about last week." He held up the DVDs.

"We hoped you could use the company?" Palmer queried, doing an eerily spot on impersonation of a puppy dog.

"Quite so." Ducky agreed.

Gibbs simply grunted his approval.

Tony could barely keep a giant smile from breaking out across his face. He welcomed his pseudo family inside and everyone set about making Tony comfortable. They all sat in the living room—Abby, Tony, Gibbs, and Ziva, in that order, lumped onto the big red sofa, Palmer and McGee sat side by side on the loveseat, while Duck found himself sitting quite comfortably on the reclining couch.

They ate soup, bickered lightly, watched Tonys' big screen T.V.

Halfway through the first movie, Duck had fallen soundly asleep.

By the end of the first movie, McGee had joined the doctor in the land of slumber.

Twenty minutes into the second movie, Palmer and Ziva had passed out.

An hour into the second movie, Abby lay fast asleep atop Tonys' broad shoulder.

"Geez," Tony whispered, eyes glued to the screen. "Can you believe this film actually got a—Gibbs?" He turned his head carefully, so as not to jar his sleeping friend, only to see that his fearless commander had also fallen asleep.

Tony smiled softly.

Dr. Pitt had been out of town last night, when he'd gone to see him over the stomach pains and the vomiting; so Tony had been sent to a burly older doctor, who'd not actually bothered physically checking up on him—he'd taken a quick glance at his file and told him to stay at home if the vomiting persisted, drink plenty of liquids to prevent dehydration, and had prescribed him antacids for his stomach.

Shortly after having taken them, Tony's stomach had revolted against him. The pain had been nearly overwhelming, and he'd thrown up the saltine crackers he'd eaten that morning, before calling in sick for the second day in a row.

Afterwards, he'd actually felt a lot better, though.

And having his team come over had been more than icing to the cake.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"We've got a case, Boss. I'll call the team and tell them to meet us at the scene." Tony called the next day. It was only three in the morning—and it had literally been maybe four hours since the team had departed his home.

"See you in ten." Gibbs hung up, checking his text message for the address. He was glad Tony would be back—he'd seemed perfectly healthy when they'd bombarded his apartment last night, but still, Gibbs gut told him something was not quite right.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

Ziva flicked Tony on the forehead. "Good day to come back to work, yes?" she grinned toothily. Rain poured down on them, thunder and lightening momentarily lighting the dark barely morning sky.

Tony stuck his tongue out at his teammate. They donned heavy raincoats; regardless, they were soaked nearly to the bone, and they'd only been out at the scene for a total of fifteen minutes.

"Shit," Gibbs growled. Maybe this was why his gut had been acting up? They were most likely not going to get any physical evidence from their crime scene with the weather being as hectic as it was.

Palmer held a large, thick umbrella over himself and the doctor, as Duck attempted to examine the body. "I believe this thing could very well turn into a full-blown storm any second now." Mallard commented. "My mother was watching the news until quite late last night—says there was a national weather alert."

Palmer bit his lip nervously. "Shouldn't we be getting out of here then?"

"Quite right Mister Palmer. Do help me load the body into the van, will you?"

"Yes doctor."

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

Tony took another antacid. His stomach cramps were starting to come back—he hoped he wouldn't do something stupid, like barf on the crime scene. Gibbs was pissed enough over the lack of evidence.

The rain hadn't stopped, nor had it calmed, if anything, the storm had gotten worse. The winds were blowing in every direction, hard, the rain pelting them, the thunder becoming louder, the lightening brighter, and despite the fact that the sun would soon be rising, the sky remained dark and gray.

McGee shivered. "I can't feel my fingers!" he yelled, over the roar of the storm.

Tony nodded in agreement, "Yeah, could you imagine—"

A blinding flash of lightening erupted far too close to the two agents. It was Tony who saw the tree begin to collapse behind McGee.

"Tim!" he screamed, throwing himself instinctively against his friend, and pulling him out of the way.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"No footprints or fingerprints here, Gibbs—the assailant must have come through here long before the storm began, and then the rain washed away whatever evidence we might have found otherwise." Ziva reported.

Gibbs sighed, "Alright, let's pack it up and—" whatever else he said was drowned out by the loud roaring of thunder as lightening struck. Every head turned towards the flash.

"Tim!" they heard Tony yell, and then saw them disappear underneath the giant tree.

Gibbs took off running in an instant, with Ziva at his heels.

"DiNozzo! McGee!" he called. The tree, with its enormous bark, it's thick branches, and all it's leaves, shrouded his agents—the rain, the wind, and the continuous thunder and lightening weren't helping matters, either.

"We're ok!" Tony called back, after a long moment, his voice a little shaky.

When Ziva and Gibbs made their way around the tree, several other police officers that'd been on the scene, along with them, were shocked at the scene before them.

Tim was sitting, wide eyed, on the muddy ground, next to the senior field agent, who was sat, his long legs stretched before him, with both of his feet beneath the tree.

"Oh God." Ziva clenched the Star of David hanging on her neck and ran over to the two.

McGee was covered in mud and a small cut on his brow was bleeding sluggishly.

"I'm fine." Tony assured them, as Gibbs and Ziva ran over to them and kneeled beside him. "My legs feel fine, they're just stuck." He explained, and then nodded over to McGee. "Check on the Probie."

Once Gibbs was sure Tony wasn't downplaying anything, he went over to McGee and gently touched the small of his back.

McGee nearly jumped. "Gibbs?" he blinked. "Oh God, Tony." He sat straighter, trying to get a better look at his partner, who was being blocked slightly by Gibbs and Ziva.

"He's ok, just wedged in there. Are you ok?" Gibbs tried to keep Tim's focus, but it seemed near impossible. All Tim wanted to do was make sure with his own eyes, so Gibbs moved out of the way and let him.

"Tony," McGee breathed.

Tony grinned at the younger man. "Hey, how's the head? You hurt anywhere else?" he felt bad, he'd pushed Tim so hard, he'd bumped his head on the way down—but it was a lot better than having gotten crushed by this ginormous tree, he told himself.

Tim nodded. "I'm fine. But Tony, you, you're stuck. Does it hurt?" his brows furrowed with worry.

"Not one bit Probie." He reached over and patted Tim on the shoulder; instantly the younger man felt himself relax.

"Let's work on getting my agent out of here." Gibbs stood up.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"The ambulance will be delayed due to the storm—also there was an accident on Washington, car pile up, so they are limited on manpower right now." Ziva relayed.

An officer ran over to the man in charge and relayed some more bad news. "Unfortunately the men with the equipment needed to lift the tree off your man there, are also going to be a while. The storm is holding up traffic, accidents all over the main roads—it'll be some time before they can get here." He tried not to flinch at the glare he received in return.

Finally, Gibbs just sighed—there was no use in getting upset with either the officer or Ziva, not their fault this damn storm was causing so much chaos.

"Call Duck—I need him to send Palmer over here asap—don't tell him what's happened."

Ziva blinked, surprised. "Umm, why not?" she usually knew better than to question her commanding officer, but this was an odd request.

"It's pouring, David, I don't need Duck getting sick—Palmer's younger." He explained impatiently.

Ziva immediately understand. "Yes Boss." She made the call, keeping an eye on her friends the entire time.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

Tim sat beside his partner, and held an umbrella an officer had handed him, above their heads.

"How're you holdin' up?" Tony grimaced. "That's a nasty head wound." He reached up and examined Tims' head for himself.

Tim shook his head. "It's superficial." He said. "Umm, listen, Tony, about what you did. I can't." he paused, took a breath. "I don't know what to say man, you saved my life. 'Thank you' just doesn't even come close—"

"Hey, cut it out." Tony squeezed his shoulder. "You woulda' done the same for me."

Tim smiled. "Thanks Tony."

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"The ambulance is here!" an officer announced.

"And the damn construction crew?" Gibbs barked.

"Still on their way." Another officer cringed.

"Lead the paramedics this way." He ordered, striding over to his fallen agents.

Immediately, the two women took over the scene. One of the paramedics led Tim inside the parked ambulance and began to clean his wound. "It's very shallow." She said, smiling up at the agent. "You're lucky," She explained, "won't need stitches, just a butterfly band aid, and you should be fine—is there anywhere else you hurt?" she asked, working quickly and efficiently.

"No, I feel fine." He assessed, after a moment—he was too distracted, looking back at his partner, who was still underneath the tree, with the other paramedic.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"Hi Special Agent DiNozzo," she greeted the handsome man, "I'm Irina; how are you feeling?"

"Call me Tony." He grinned.

Gibbs nearly head-slapped him. "Enough flirting, answer the question."

Tony pouted. "Sheesh. You're no fun." Irina chuckled lightly, as she worked, checking his heartbeat and his pulse—no fun task in the pouring rain.

"Get me a space blanket, Nadia!" she called over to her partner. "You're freezing, sitting here in the rain without moving for so long—we're gonna' work on getting your temperature to stay up so there's less risk of you developing hypothermia." She explained to her patient.

Gibbs could have slapped himself—how hadn't he realized it? "DiNozzo had the pneumonic plague before—he's more susceptible than others in this kind of weather." He informed her.

Without missing a beat, the paramedic nodded, and when her partner Nadia came over with the blanket, she told her to go back and set up a small tent over the patient, grab some scrubs, scissors, and two extra space blankets.

"Gotcha." She ran back to the ambulance and set about retrieving everything.

"Here, let me help." McGee, who was still sitting inside, offered to take the poles and plastic cover, while she packed a bag full of the things she'd been instructed to get.

She accepted the help with a smile. "Take that over to my partner Irina. Thanks."

He did as he was told and Irina, Gibbs, and he dug the poles into the ground deep enough that they stood firmly, and then stretched out the white plastic sheet and strung the edges to each pole tightly, making a small tent over the trapped senior field agent.

Irina kneeled on the ground beside the agent. "That'll keep you dry then." She patted him on the shoulder. "We do need to get you out of those wet clothes—I'll give you some scrubs and space blankets afterward."

Tony took off his soaked rain coat, his jacket, his button up collared shirt, and his white undershirt. The paramedic handed him a clean dry almost lime green shirt, and he donned it gratefully.

"Now the hard part." She took out the scissor and cut the bottom of his jeans off.

Tony grimaced. "Man, I loved these."

Gibbs grinned. "Shoulda' known better than to wear your favorite pair of jeans to a crime scene, DiNozzo."

Tony made a face at his boss as Irina continued to cut the pants off of him, leaving him in his boxers. She had Gibbs and McGee lift Tony up a little while she placed a space blanket beneath him.

"No way to get the pants on." She wrapped a second space blanket around his bare legs and the third went around his shoulders and torso. "But that should keep you more than warm until they can get you outta' this mess." She assured him.

"Thanks." He smiled.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

"How are you feeling, Tony?" Ziva kneeled down underneath his tent.

"Warm." Tony waggled his brows at her. "Wanna' join me under these sheets Zee-va?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

"What on earth?!"

Gibbs raised a brow, "Duck, what are you—"

"Not a word Jethro—you should know better than to exclude me from something like this! Hail nor storm will keep me from helping family." Ducky practically growled. Tony and Zivas' eyes widened like china plates. They'd never heard the good doctor raise his voice before, much less in anger. And like a switch had gone off, he was suddenly back to his usual self. "How are you my dear boy?"

"I'm good Duck, really. You should have stayed at the morgue—I don't want you getting sick on my account."

"Nonsense Anthony." Ducky patted him on the shoulder and went about doing a full physical on the agent.

Palmer stood nervously beside them. "What happened?" he asked, shocked to see the giant tree on the ground.

"Lightening struck the tree; it collapsed." Gibbs explained, with all his usual flourish.

"He pushed me out of the way and got his feet stuck under the bark." Tim added, anguished.

Palmer and Ducky introduced themselves to the two paramedics.

"Anthony, can you try and wiggle your toes for me?"

Tony shrugged. "I can't really feel my toes anymore, Duck."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes—he could see the bells of alarm that went off in the heads of the doctor, his assistant, and the paramedics.

"Where on earth is the crew whose job it is to get this blasted thing off of Anthony?" Ducky cursed.

Ziva sighed, frustrated. "Still on route."

Gibbs gut churned.

Tony let out a small whimper.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs kneeled down next to his agent.

"My stomach." He ground his teeth, a fresh sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. The pain had come on abruptly and was nearly overwhelming.

Ducky made Tony lay down flat and his hands felt across his abdominal area, and then on his sides. Tonys' breath hitched. "God, that hurts." He flinched away from the doctors' touch.

"Anthony, listen to me carefully, and think back to the last couple of sick days you've had—what did Pitt say when you went to him?"

Tony huffed an agonized breath. "Wasn't there, got someone else—gave me antacids, told me I'd be fine."

"When did you get these stomach pains?"

"Friday, during lunch—thought I'd eaten some bad lo mein." He replied through grit teeth.

"And when Monday morning came and the pain had not subsided, you called in sick?" Duck asked, a good impersonation of Gibbs interrogating a witness—something akin a calm urgency.

"Yeah, the pain wasn't so bad 'till Monday morning, when I woke up after getting the call for the case."

"After taking the antacids the next day, how did you feel?"

"Like shit." Tony gasped out, eye shut tight. "Threw up again, pain was unbearable." He breathed. "But…but then I felt a lot better, no more pain—and then you guys came over, much better." He panted.

The paramedics checked his temp and heart-rate.

"Temp is up—running a mild fever."

"Heart-rate sped up." The other confirmed.

Duck looked at the two women. "I'm going to need an I.V. drip over here stat, fill it with antibiotics."

"Yes doctor," Nadia and Irina ran to retrieve the objects, noticeably concerned.

"What's going on?" McGee could barely contain the worry.

"Perforated appendix." Jimmy scowled; this was bad.

"What is that?" Ziva cut in, her brows furrowed.

"He had appendicitis, which would require a trip to the E.R. and a simple operation to remove the appendix, but because he took antacids, the organ became further inflamed and to put it in laymen's terms, it burst. We need antibiotics to stop the inflammation. But he needs surgery a.s.a.p." Palmer wrung his hands together.

Tony suddenly sprang up and coughed onto the ground, hard, wet, wracking coughs.

Blood trickled down his chin.


	2. Chapter 2

Quick A.N. Thank you all for reading, I appreciate it a lot :) ; I made some harebrained mistakes in the first chapter which a few of you pointed out (thank you!) and fixed them. If anyone notices anything else do feel free to tell me. I plan to update on Fridays (although clearly that did not work out very well this time, and I apologize for the delay). Last chapter however will be posted this Friday-God willing. Without further ado, here's the second chapter-please enjoy.

"We need that crew over here, _now_!"

Duck hooked Tony up to the IV and hoped the antibiotics would ease his young friends pain.

"S'not my day, huh?" he joked, breathing hard; his entire lower stomach felt like one big white, hot ball of fire.

Ducky smiled down gently at the boy. "Always an adventure with you, my dear boy." He said, fondly. "The antibiotics should help with the inflammation, which should in turn subdue some of the pain you're in, Anthony." He explained.

Tony chuckled lightly, a cough mixing in to the laughter. "I must be in some deep shit if Gibbs is cursing out the crew men."

Duck could hear Gibbs yelling and taking names all the way across from the other side of the crime scene.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"My agent needs to be in the hospital!" Gibbs growled, then promptly hung up. "Damn it!" he hissed—he could feel his blood pressure rising. He hated feeling so utterly inept in these situations.

"The storm is getting worse." Ziva grimaced tightly. "Abby attempted to leave the building once she found out about the situation here but was not able to get into the garage—there is flooding. They are closing off roads and telling people to stay indoors or above the sea level if possible."

The weather had deteriorated further in the last two hours since the accident. With nearly every road closed and several other accidents elsewhere, help was nowhere near coming.

Gibbs bawled his hands into fists and growled.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"How much longer?"

Nadia blinked "Excuse me?"

Gibbs sighed, "How much longer can he last in these conditions?"

Nadia mulled over this for a minute before clearing her throat. "Despite a ruptured appendix, most patients are actually able to survive a good 48 hours before any surgery to remove the appendix, is actually needed." She sighed. "However, in your agents' case, despite the antibiotics we're currently giving him to help with the swelling, he _will_ need surgery and very soon at that—the next couple of hours, in fact. He's coughing up blood at the moment—this is a sign of pneumonia. We're also treating him for that—the ruptured organ caused an infection, which caused the lowered antibodies, which caused him to get pneumonia in this weather much quicker than he would have otherwise—that and the fact that he had the plague, which also gave him a higher risk of infection."

He walked past her without a word, fists clenched at his sides. He was going to murder whatever dunderheaded moronic doctor had been too lazy to give his agent an actual physical—this whole situation could have been avoided.

Gibbs should have listened to his gut. Should have brought Tony straight to Duck the second he'd called in sick the _first_ day!

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

In the mean time, the paramedics had set up a small sterile tent over the agent, and covered the ground around him with space blankets. Everyone who entered the tent was required to wear gloves, a mask, and clean scrubs, in order to try to stave off further infection.

Tony was having a coughing fit, which only worsened the pain in his lower abdomen. Palmer gently wiped the blood from Tony's lips and chin. They were already giving Tony several antibiotics for both the swelling and the pneumonia.

Tony's face was beyond pale and very drawn, his brow pinched in pain. He coughed again, face scrunching up.

Palmer wiped dutifully. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. I'm sure the crew will be here any minute."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Duck had ordered the paramedics to set up a heart monitor from the ambulance set up in the small confines of the tent and they were now in the process of attaching the senior field agent up to it, so that they could monitor his vital signs. Both women tried hard not to be too intrusive on the two agents.

McGee sat beside his friend, in pale green scrubs, "I'm so sorry Tony, this is all my fault—I should be the one under that tree right now." He sputtered.

Tony, who up until that point had been drifting in and out of consciousness, opened his glassy green eyes and stared straight into the probies' fearful ones. "You listen here Tim," he gasped, the breathing tube making it hard to talk without drawing too much breath. "I hear you say something that stupid ever again, I will personally get Gibbs to kick your ass till Kingdom come; you understand? You did nothing wrong, it could've been any one of us—it was an accident Tim. Do you think if it was your fault you would still be alive?" Tony chuckled. "Gibbs would have sent you out into the storm to get him some coffee by now." He coughed.

Tim's shoulders sagged. He really just wanted to take Tony's place under that stupid tree and have Tony be safe and in the hospital and resting comfortably and on his way to recovering. "I know." He sighed. "I just…"

Tony weakly patted Tim's hand. "I know Probie."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"How you holdin' up DiNozzo?" Gibbs leaned over Tony.

"I've been worse." He grinned cheekily.

Gibbs hid his grimace—it was true, he had been worse, shot at, stabbed, beaten—Gibbs shook his head, dislodging those thoughts away. "Murphy's Law." He said, suddenly. "Anything that can go wrong, will." he knew it went something along those lines.

Tony laughed, coughing as he did. "Oh, you always know just what to say, don't cha' Boss?"

Gibbs shrugged. "One of my specialties." He deadpanned.

"There was this really bad storm—a lot like this one—when I was kid, where I grew up." Tony gasped into the mask. "I was five." He said. "I'd accidentally locked myself out of the house and was out in the backyard the entire time." He recalled.

Gibbs gut clenched. He hated all of Tony's childhood tales of horror; the worst part of it all was that Tony said these things quite casually, almost as if these were normal things—a part of growing up—and not his parents' screw ups.

Despite that, Gibbs sat beside Tony and listened without commenting.

"I pretended to be the little boy from 'Where the Wild Things Are'—I had the picture book in my library." Tony coughed. "I made a castle out of the mud and grass—it wasn't until the storm was over that one of the maids ran out to check on the roses, that I was let back in." Tony laughed. "You should've seen her face, Boss. I was covered in mud from head to toe!"

Gibbs smiled sadly. Of course Tony didn't think the maid had been shocked to see that he'd been left out in the storm for so long without either of his parents having noticed! Of course he would think the expression had something to do with how dirty he'd managed to get.

"What did your parents say?" Gibbs regretted the words as soon as they'd escaped his mouth.

Tony simply shrugged. "Father was away on business at the time."

"And your mother?" Gibbs didn't know why he was even poking the bear at this point.

"The storm had given her a head ache. She was in her room resting I think."

"Did you get sick afterward?" he wiped the sweat off his senior field agents' brow.

He nodded slowly, eyes drooping.

Gibbs remembered taking care of his daughter Kelly when she had caught the flu or some bug going around. He remembered reading her stories and giving her cough medicine, singing her favorite songs and rocking her to sleep.

He couldn't imagine either of Tony's parents having done any of that.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"They are not coming."

"What?"

Ziva glared at the phone, "Talk to these people; they refuse to come." She demanded, fuming.

Gibbs took the phone and spoke to the crewmen. "What the hell do you mean you're not coming? My agent is in serious condition—he needs surgery, a.s.a.p." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "We've been waiting for three hours!" he yelled, making several officers near him flinch. Finally, he flung the phone across the crime scene—it smashed into a tree and only pieces of what used to be an NCIS issued cellular phone landed on the wet, muddy ground beneath them.

He took a deep shuddering breath and crossed the scene to the doctors' vehicle. "They're not coming." He announced, and Ducks' heart nearly broke. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen his old friends' face looking so completely crumpled. "What are we gonna' do Ducky?" he nearly begged. He couldn't lose Tony.

Duck patted his friend's shoulder. "Jethro—there's not much we can do." He stated gravely.

Ziva and McGee stood a few feet away, their faces falling upon hearing the news. Ziva felt her chest constrict. "What do you mean there is nothing you can do?" she demanded, angered. "You—you have to keep him alive!" she screamed, not realizing how high her voice had gotten. "There are four of you here—four medical professionals on the scene, and you claim you can do _nothing_?"

McGee touched Zivas' shoulder softly but firmly. "It's not Ducky's fault." He whispered, voice cracking. He couldn't believe this was happening—maybe this was all a terrible nightmare and he would wake up in the morning, go to the office, and Tony would be there, at his desk, throwing paper balls at him, messing with his keyboard, telling tall tales about his latest conquests—this had to be a dream.

"We have to try." Palmer spoke up. "We can go ahead with the surgery, right here."

Three heads turned towards the doctor. "Can you, Duck? Can you do the surgery here?" Gibbs could feel his nails digging into the skin inside his palms.

The doctor scowled deeply. "Yes. I can." He sighed. "I'd really much rather wait for the weather to clear up Jethro—there are so many complications, so many risks, and I haven't operated on a live person in _years_! I—" Duck looked away, ashamed. "I don't want to be the cause of Anthonys' demise."

Gibbs looked bewildered for a moment—his friend had always been confident—not boastful—in his abilities as a doctor, had never once doubted himself—but he could understand how nerve-wracking this was for the older man. Tony and Duck were friends—_really_ good friends, and Ducky cared for Tony very much.

"You can do this." Gibbs looked his friend straight in the eye, put his hands on his shoulders. "I need you to do this. I need you to _try_. Please."

Ziva and McGee stood there, speechless; they'd never heard their fearless leader say "please" to anybody for anything before.

Ducks' eyes hardened. He nodded stiffly—determined, and silently walked passed the trio, gesturing for Palmer to follow his lead.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"Prep for surgery." Duck ordered.

The two paramedics stood, befuddled, for a moment, before realizing the doctor wasn't kidding around.

"But—"

"We're on it." Nadia interrupted her partner, and they quickly set to work.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Gibbs sat with Tony as Duck, Palmer, and the two paramedics set up for surgery, inside the tent. They were trying hard to make sure that the tent was as sterile as possible. They'd gone so far as to cover a part of the tree that his agent was under.

Gibbs wore a green mask, scrubs, and a pair of thick elastic gloves; an outfit similar to that of the four medical professionals.

"What's goin' on?" Tony blinked.

"The crewmen aren't going to be here on time—Duck is going to go through with the surgery now." Gibbs announced.

Tony looked surprised for a moment, and then he smiled made a small shrugging motion with his shoulders. "Long as it's Ducky."

The doctor stopped his prepping for a second and smiled. He was honored and touched that his young friend had so much confidence in him.

"Shit."

Four pairs of eyes landed on Palmer.

Gibbs couldn't remember ever hearing the guy say a single vulgar thing.

"What's the matter?" Duck raised a brow.

Palmer bit his lip, frustrated, "We don't have anesthesia, and we don't have enough morphine." his hope of saving his friend rapidly crashing before his very eyes.

"Damn it!" It was Ducks' turn to curse. Neither the ambulance nor his truck had these things necessary to conduct the surgery.

Tony coughed. "Can't you do it without the anesthesia?"

"That would be extremely painful," one of the paramedics opposed, "and there's a way bigger chance of a screw up if you're moving around during the operation."

"I'll hold him down—McGee and Ziva too." Gibbs volunteered, knowing full well what he was getting ready to do.

Ducks' eyes widened. "My dear boy, I don't think you know the implications of what you're—"

"Duck," Tony interrupted, "I'll be ok."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"Scalpel."

"Scalpel." Palmer handed his mentor the instrument.

One paramedic monitored Tony's vital signs, while the other shone a bright, steady light onto the operating sight.

"Making my first incision." Duck began. This would be an open appendectomy, and would probably leave a long scar across the side of his stomach. They had nothing to numb the skin, and as Duck made the first horizontal incision, he clearly heard his patient attempt to stifle a gasp.

Gibbs was holding down his arm and shoulder, Ziva the left side, and McGee was holding onto both of Tony's knees.

McGee tried not to look, as the doctor's sharp instrument broke through skin and muscle. Palmer sat next to Gibbs and handed Duck the tissue scissors, swabbing the area down.

Tony's hands clenched and unclenched, and he forcibly ground his teeth together to keep from screaming out.

Gibbs let one hand rest comfortingly against Tony's forehead. He leaned in, his face a few inches from his senior field agents. "You're doing great Tony—you're going to be just fine, ya hear me DiNozzo?"

Tony huffed.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS- NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"Heart rate's increasing." One paramedic announced.

"We need to close up."

"Anthony? Are you with us?"


End file.
